


Telelogical

by Port_of_Morrow



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: AUs, Fluff, M/M, Theatre AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_of_Morrow/pseuds/Port_of_Morrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> The teleological argument stands that the world is so intricate, and the events in our lives so serendipitous, that some cause must exist - whether it's destiny, God, or the mere happenings of fate - that has wound the world in such a way that puts you right here, right now. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>This is a collection of non-canon-compliant alternate meetings for James and Q. 10 stories, each max. 2000 words, inspired by a post on tumblr. Sometimes co-incidence bites us in the back-side, but sometimes it puts us right where we're meant to be. This is quite sentimental, I do warn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telelogical

As James sauntered into the picturesque Victorian theatre, he glanced around in sheer amazement. Theatres weren't usually the type of place James frequented, and when he thought about it for a moment - he hadn't actually been in one since he was 21, and trying to impress some artsy sweetheart by pretending he was most thoroughly interested in Brecht. He wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn't for his dear aunt - totally estranged from birth, he'd only come into contact with the lady several months ago - and feeling as if she  _had_ to buy him a 40th birthday present, she'd gotten James two tickets to one of the most expensive shows in London.

Being annoyingly single as well as not knowing a soul who'd be even half interested in accompanying him, James palmed one ticket off on ebay for twenty quid, and decided he might  _as well_ go and see the play himself. After all, his aunt would only ask him what he thought - and the twenty quid could be nicely spent on getting him pissed during the half-time break, or whatever it was called, so he could enjoy the rest of the evening in a semi-concious stupor.

James bought a programme and had a flick through as he leant up against the wall of the auditorium. He'd not read anything about the play online, but having a flick through the programme it looked a lot more exciting that some stuffy old Shakespeare that he'd been expecting. All the male characters looked so dapper and the ladies all in what looked like 1920s evening gowns. One of the men was even holding a pistol - okay, James thought, perhaps tonight wouldn't be as bad as expected.

The house was beginning to fill, so James promptly found his seat in the fourth row from the front. James found a red velvet seat somewhere in the middle and attempted to make himself comfortable. He checked his watch; still ten minutes until showtime.

Just as James was tucking in to his chocolate buttons, a quite beautiful, airy voice sounded from his right.

"P-pardon me, I think you might be in my seat."

Wide eyed, James glanced up at the young man standing awkwardly to his right.

 

He was quite breathtaking, but James was on his feet before he could really take in any wonderful facet of the boy's visage.

"Goodness, sorry, I'm kind of new to this theatre thing..." James attempted a chuckle, "Er, gosh, let me check my ticket," he bumbled, retrieving the white card from his top pocket.

"Oh, D19, that's just next to me," the airy voice spoke again, tapping a finger over the black print on James's ticket.

"Of course, so sorry,"

"Not to worry, Mr Bond," Q smiled, sidling across James and taking his seat.

James sat down slowly, "H-how do you know my name?" he asked. Surely he wouldn't have the bad fortune of being sat next to some secret-service operative, and even then, 007 wasn't  _that_  well known beyond MI6. He suddenly set into a state of concern.

"The bill payer's name is printed on the ticket," Q smiled, repressing a chuckle as he made himself comfortable.

James fixated his eyes on Q. He was absolutely and so annoyingly gorgeous. As James began to feel very envious of whoever would be kissing those blush red lips during the interval, he noticed an elderly woman and her friend slip into the two seats to Q's right.

"Here on your own?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmh," Q mused, as he fished half a chocolate orange from the inner pocket of his charcoal black three piece suit. "And you?" he acknowledged, pushing a wedge of chocolate between his lips, brushing a smudge of cocoa off with his thumb.  
  


James instinctively licked his own lips.

"Y-yes. Just me, tonight."

"Okay," Q smiled shyly, "Well, enjoy the show," he nodded as he turned to the stage, and the house lights dimmed. 

Just before the house was shrouded into total darkness, James whispered, "My first name's James, by the way. What's yours?"

"It's Q," a smooth, sensuous voice whispered back.

\---

The interval came on a mind-boggling cliffhanger and James found that he was enjoying this  _far_ too much for a piece of theatre. He actually  _wanted_ to know what was going to happen in thee second act.

 

His mind hadn't wandered far from the elusive beauty sat beside him though, and as he rose and made his way along the row towards the foyer, he was secretly quite pleased to see the young man following him. He knew he didn't have a chance in hell with a man like this - but nonetheless, he was here tonight to experience beauty, after all, wasn't he?

 

James stood patiently in the queue for the bar, and supressed a ridiculous smile when Q -  _Q,_  he'd said his name was - stepped up next to him.

"I hope you d-don't mind if I join you for an interval drink, if that's okay..." he began.

"Not at all, please," James spoke coolly, gently pressing his hand - reassuringly, of course - to the brunet's lower back. If James had been more focused on Q's face than he was on the drinks menu, he'd have noticed a light red blush rise to Q's pale cheeks, and his lips bend into a shy and quite smitten smile.

Once they'd purchased their drinks - a red wine for Q and a gin for James - they made their way to a less occupied corner of the foyer. It was still a crowded space, but somehow it made it more intimate, for they were pressed to stand close enough away to  eachother to allow James to smell the red wine which passed between Q's lips, and Q to notice the crease on the bridge of James's nose, and the rough stubble spread across his strong jaw.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" James asked casually. "Big, er, Priestly fan?" he said, attempting to sound intelligent as he memorised the playwright's surname.

"Not particlarly, actually," Q chuckled nervously, feeling a heat rise to his cheeks, "A, er, a friend of mine co-directed, - managed to wrangle me a free ticket - couldn't turn it down, really."

"Just a friend?" James said softly, raising his gin to his lips.

Q's blush deepened, "We, er, yes -  _now_ we are... we did date for a little bit back in university to be honest - th-that's how I know him. But not any more," he added hastily.

James stood still, mouth open at the word  _him_. It turned out he'd repeated the word, sounding a little more surprised than acceptable.

 

"Yes - him. Sorry if that bothers you," Q raised his eyebrows, looking quite offish, suddenly.

"No... no no no no," James shook his head vehemently. This was so  _unlike_ him. He wanted to go back in time and swan across the foyer as he usually did, shooting the young man a wink and dropping some stupid pick up line. But alas here he was - his cheeks red with embarrassment, eyes wide and lips open like a fish.

"That's five "no"s," Q smirked.

"I'm sorry... I just didn't think I'd have a bloody chance." he breathed.

It was Q's turn to be taken aback for a moment. James - with his muscles and his short hair and his lady-winning smile, didn't  _exactly_ come off as the gay stereotype.

"Well, what makes you think you  _do?_ " Q said with mock superiority, recomposing himself and taking another sip of his wine.

"I d-didn't... oh god I've been an idiot. Sorry," James groaned, stepping away from the young man.

"Oh for god's  _sake_ ," Q rolled his eyes, before stopping James with a hand to his forearm and raising himself on his tip toes, leaving a kiss on the older man's lips.

James's head went into overdrive. It had been  _far_ too long since he'd kissed a man - since he'd kissed  _anyone_ who tasted of chocolate and red wine and who's messy hair would brush his temples as he kissed him deeper, pressing his free hand to his waist.

Q pulled away first, and actually laughed.

"Wh-what..." James asked, laughing himself.

"N-no, I just...  _God_ ," Q laughed, "This is so unlike me... usually I take  _ages_ to pluck up the courage to even talk to someone fit let alone snog them in public,"

"C'mon, back to it then," James mumbled, before pulling Q closer to him and kissing him again, slower, relishing every movement and taste and sound that made up this ridiculous, spontaneous experience. 

And the interval was over far too quickly, and abandoning their over priced drinks at the bar, James and Q made their way back into the auditorium to their seats.

"That was a very silly thing of me to do... I hardly know you," Q blushed, making himself comfortable.

"Well you're not exactly comitted to ever see me again," James said pointedly. "However, you do have the pleasure of my company for the next fourty five minutes."

"I think I can handle that," Q smiled with a stroke to James's thumb, as the house lights lowered and the show commenced.

 

 

 


End file.
